


a tale of a man and his sun.

by darkerholland



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Greek Religion & Lore Fusion, M/M, References to Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, Sexual Content, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:13:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28734750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkerholland/pseuds/darkerholland
Summary: Chan has always liked to think he is Achilles. Naturally, the Patroclus to his Achilles is Felix.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Lee Felix
Comments: 16
Kudos: 91





	a tale of a man and his sun.

Chan’s fascination with Greek mythology stemmed from his childhood, in which his parents used to tell him tales of Greek legends before bedtime, and he dreamt of them, planting himself in their epic narratives, dreaming he was a hero among gods.

As a child, his favourite tale had been the one of Achilles; strong, brave, and heroic Achilles, the greatest warrior history had ever produced. His life had been triumphant, but his death had come too soon. Vanquished by his foes, his enemies danced on his downfall.

Chan would play out in the garden, picking up a wooden stick and pretending it was a sword, using the lid of a cardboard box as a shield. In his mind, he painted the faces of Paris and Hector – Achilles' adversaries – on the trees and poked the stick in their bark until it broke off. Defeated. Chan’s play of Achilles’ tale was the only version in which he lived, because Chan was clever and had taped off his heel, making it impenetrable to anything that could kill him.

“That’s not fair,” his father had pointed out at the dinner table. “Achilles did not know he would get shot in his heel.”

 _Who dies from an arrow to the heel, anyway_? Chan had thought.

Throughout his childhood and teenage years, Chan held those Greek legends close to his heart. They were his companions and escape from realism. And though he came to know about many more myths, Achilles had already nestled himself into a corner of Chan’s heart, and would not come out to make room for anyone.

Until.

Felix.

Felix, who Chan had quickly claimed as his own Patroclus – Achilles’ beloved companion – was a legend in his own right. He carried an air of immortality around him – even though Chan knew death was inevitable for all, he could not help but think of Felix as infinite. The sound of his laugh, his voice; how could there be a moment in time where they abruptly ceased to exist? It did not seem possible to Chan.

Felix had walked into his life when Chan could no longer see the light at the end of the tunnel. Blinded by the darkness around him, he crawled, trying to get out. He did not think he would ever make it. But Felix settled himself into Chan’s life, pulling him along through the tunnel as if there was something guiding his way, and before he knew it, Chan was surrounded by light again. Felix remained next to him after that, and the tunnel closed for good.

Loving Felix was the easiest thing Chan had ever done. Nothing came more naturally to him than the act of admiring his friend. Sometimes, he had to remember to breathe, to let the air fill his lungs. But Felix was all around him, and Chan lived his life with the knowledge Felix was at the centre of it. The songs he composed were inspired by him. The art he created was made for him. And Felix was the perfect muse.

Felix gave away kindness as if it were a secret easily shared among friends. It did not bother him that people took advantage of his good nature, nor did he become a worse person for it. There was no universe in which Felix did not smile at the people who mocked him for how easy gentleness came to him.

Their relationship was defined by an unbreakable connection, a bond so tight their thoughts had become so similar, Chan often did not know if a memory or perception was his or Felix’. Sometimes, Chan swore he could _feel_ Felix’ heartbeat alongside his own, even if they were miles apart.

They were friends.

Until they were not.

It could have happened on any given day, but it was a stormy evening, and they were the only ones home. A scene from their daily life played; Chan pressing down on the keys of a keyboard to create music, Felix pressing down on his to shoot at an enemy. Their desks were placed next to each other, so naturally, so were they.

“Come listen to this,” Chan said, gently nudging Felix with his elbow. Felix took his headphones off and shuffled closer to Chan, leaning his head on Chan’s shoulder. Chan moved to unplug his own headphones from the laptop. Felix moved with him, and suddenly their faces were close together, and Chan could count every single freckle decorating Felix’ face, feel the hot breath on his skin.

Then Felix moved even closer, and their lips were pressed against each other, and Chan struggled to breathe as Felix moved into Chan’s lap. Their beds, pressed up against each other to make more room for their desks, had stood abandoned since that morning but were now suddenly inhabited by two bodies undressing each other, kissing wildly as they fell back into the heap of pillows and blankets, moaning as Chan took his time preparing Felix, gasping when Felix bit Chan’s shoulder as he slid into him.

 _God_ , it was glorious. Chan had never been one for religion, but Felix tasted so _divine_ , sounded so _angelically_ , felt so _heavenly_ , that in that moment, Chan devoted himself to Felix as if he were a god, and he full-heartedly believed he was. Felix was made to be worshipped.

Afterwards, while Felix lay asleep in Chan’s arms, Chan thought of his old heroes, Achilles and Patroclus, and how he always compared himself and Felix to them. Now he knew he had been wrong.

He was not Achilles.

Felix was not Patroclus.

Chan would do _anything_ to be close to Felix. He would jump into the sky, spread his arms to fly with the wind, endure the hot wax dripping down his back as the feathers of his constructed wings plucked themselves from his back, floating in the air and falling to the sea beneath him. He would fly up to the sun and laugh as he would come undone from its heat, following the feathers down into the treacherous ocean, watching as the sun would become smaller and smaller, knowing he had been close enough to touch it, feel it, experience it. And that was enough.

Chan was Icarus, and Felix was his sun.


End file.
